


AMERICA'S GREATEST.

by STEVE-ANTI (THIGHCLOPS)



Series: Y/N'S RISING [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Captain America - Freeform, Choking, Mutant Reader, Nuggets, Other, steve rogers - Freeform, tw// mutantphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 21:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THIGHCLOPS/pseuds/STEVE-ANTI
Summary: This story goes out to my co-creator Elias. Truly blessed to be cursed together with you xx





	AMERICA'S GREATEST.

It’s a normal, warm summer evening. Your delightful mutant self and your favorite mutant uncle are enjoying a nice nugget meal. You look up and laugh “These nuggets remind me of Steve Rogers. Your olive oil, microwave nuggets really aren’t that great uncle.” He looks disappointed, a little sad even. He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen, only to return with a small glass bottle, a white thick liquid contained in it. “Try it with this y/n, it’s my special recipe.” You raise a brow, holding your hand out to accept the bottle from him. A suspicious look on your face. You pull it to your nose, a sour sickly smell arises, you try to hold back a wave of throw up that spawned in the back of your throat. The sauces your uncle makes usually aren’t all that, but this one really tops them all. You pour a little out on the plate, just to please him, dipping a nugget in and taking a big bite. Yeah this was a mistake. A new, bigger wave of barf bubbles up from your stomach. “Oh come on, it’s basically just fancy mayo! Mayonnaise, ranch and cool whip, with a little hint of relish! My D&D group loves it.” You slam your hands over your mouth, yeah you need to get to the toilet and fast. Your uncle looks offended, even more than before. “I’m sorry, I need to uh—pee.” You mumble before blasting off to the bathroom. The door slams close behind you, no time lock it. You throw yourself over the toilet, but just too late, a little puke already trickled on the floor as you try to aim the rest into the pot. “Y/N, are you okay?” You try to answer yes as your get light headed, try to remain in control over your body. But you are slipping, into darkness, the feeling of your body passing out overtakes you. With a loud thud you bump your head into the porcelain throne, then onto the flood, head slamming into tiles, vile with a small puddle of your own throw up. The door opens, you gasp for air, a little of the fluid and mush accidentally getting inhaled. You head your uncle dial the phone, you think.

Not long after you hear sirens approach, it’s still hard to breathe with the mush in your nostrils but help is on the way. The front door slams open, they’re coming. You feel hands on your shoulders, a hand trying to reach in your mouth, trying to get the bad substances out. You choke, trying to couch, remain conscious. They notice it’s not working, your body is being lifted up, onto a stretcher. Hands on your legs, two on your shoulders. You head a bonk on the floor behind you but your eyes are closed, your body to heavy to move, your mind to far away to question much. That’s when you sense a presence getting closer, the individual with hands still on your shoulders. “This is what you get for making fun of me.” Your blood freezes over, truth dawning on you. Steve Rogers . .  
Your heart stops, maybe just shock still, maybe it’s the realization that his gloved hand is moving closer and closer to your neck, you regain a moment of strength “That’s what you get for being a mutantphobic little twat waffle.” This is what you think you say, intend to say, want him to hear. In sad reality your words were unintelligible due to vomiting the remainder of the mystery sauce. His hand moves closer to you throat now, slowly moving around it, fingers squeezing. You gasp, a little squeak. You hear a single buldering laugh coming from the mutantphobic, hypocrite blond. And with that he squeezes the last of breath out of you. You try to struggle but your wrists are in the process of being tied down, all the medics are in on this, no one left to help you as you realize the bonk from earlier must have been your uncle being knocked out. As you struggle to breathe you manage to pull one hand back, you reach out with one of your weak arms in an attempt to gauge those oceanic orbs out of his head with your little lesbian nails. But no luck, he is too strong, they are with too many. With triumph sounding through his voice he starts telling you about him messing with your uncle’s special sauce, he used poison and for you, a couple of america’s pubes. He heard all the insults you made at his expense, all the jokes, apparently America was .. insecure. You manage to shiver before your body gives out. 

Things go dark once more, all you see is a sadistic smile on the blond mutantphobe’s face. You try to spit at him in a last act of defiance but you have gone under. The last image in your mind will now forever be Steve Rogers with a bread, crooked grin. You can’t believe this is it. Proven once again that mutants simply can’t escape the captain mutantphobe’s wrath. You hope you’ll be avenged for this, the captain must pay for this, one way or another. With things slipping away you realize this all wouldn’t have been so bad if it was anyone but him, a bittersweet take on the end of your life. The last bit of light dims, a second of pitch black before you get welcomed by a bright warm angelic light. You have never done anything wrong ever in your life and the one above all knows this. A warm embrace wraps itself around you, a force you’d heard about but never got the pleasure to meet. The phoenix force. Your final destination. God is getting ready to avenge you.

To be continued?

**Author's Note:**

> This story goes out to my co-creator Elias. Truly blessed to be cursed together with you xx


End file.
